sometimes I like to pretend that it all makes sense. like that child that can taste colors, you know he is right when he tells you about the yellow flavor, and everyone is fascinated by his narration. even tho and just because you know that there is not yellow flavor out there, you may as well trust him about it tasting like the Greench.
that happens to me sometimes, pretending and stuff, but then, soon, I remind myself that nothing makes sense and it's just my brain making meaningful connections between the insignificant and the un-significance.
so, I went to a poetry reading recently. here some visual poems from last show. words were spoken by people that aren't me. I just transposed them.